


Of Small Blonds and Space Movies

by pocketbucky (SophisticatedCat)



Series: Movie Theater 'Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Masturbation, Movie Theatre, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Trans Male Character, Trans Sam Wilson, Trans Steve Rogers, movie theater, sam and nat are a side ship not the main one just so you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9312935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophisticatedCat/pseuds/pocketbucky
Summary: Bucky works at a movie theatre.One slow night, a skinny blond walks into the theater and into Bucky's life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just to aid with visualization, I wrote them as pre-war in appearance and characterization.
> 
> Edit: I have added one or two lines since original publication. These are very minor changes that are meant to tie into my in-progress Steve POV fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is bored at work.
> 
> That is until a delicious looking man walks up to the concession stand.

It was a slow night at the theater. So slow that it felt like time was moving backwards. Bucky was the lucky son of a bitch who’d been scheduled to work concession on a Wednesday night in the middle of winter. Fortunately for his sanity, his friend Natasha had been scheduled to work box. Besides, Bucky had plenty of reading to do for his world civ class. 

A few customers had come in, mostly couples. Not enough customers to make the time fly. 

Bucky leans, stomach against the counter. His eyes scan the words in his history textbook, and his brain attempts to retain the information. He places a pink post it bookmark next to an interesting passage. 

A gust of wind and the heavy metal door snapping shut pull Bucky from his reading. He quickly stuffs the textbook in a cupboard and attempts not to look like he’s dying inside. 

A small, skinny blond steps into the lobby, stomping the snow off of his boots. He’s wrapped in what is probably several layers of clothing. A dark hood pokes out from under his blue winter coat. Blond bangs fall over the boy’s forehead, obscuring his eyes and giving him a distinctly hipster-ish look. _He’s going to the space movie_ , Bucky thinks. He loves trying to pinpoint what people are going to see or what they’re going to order from the concession stand. 

Bucky watches as the man steps up to the box office and buys one ticket to the space movie, nailed it. As he pays, the customer flips the bangs off of his forehead with a well-practiced flick of the head. Bucky swallows an audible gasp as the man’s beautiful blue...no green? (maybe blue with a slice of green) eyes flick to where Bucky is standing in the concession stand. 

The customer makes his way over to Bucky. Ever eager to charm, Bucky relaxes his shoulders and puts on his best Smirk™. 

“What can I get for ya?” Bucky offers as the beautiful boy steps up to the counter. Bucky is suddenly very conscious that he’s wearing a white shirt and cheesy bowtie. 

“I’ll have a small water and some Twizzlers.” Bucky tries not to openly flinch at how surprisingly low and delicious the boy’s voice is. Bucky usually prides himself on efficiency, but now regrets just how brief the concession stand interaction actually is. 

As Bucky plops the water bottle on the counter, the boy begins casually chatting.

“Busy night, huh?” The boy observes sarcastically. 

“Yeah. Nobody wants to brave the snow to see movies that have been out for two weeks.” Bucky comments. 

That earns a friendly chuckle from the customer. 

“That’s 8 bucks.” 

The customer pays Bucky. grabs the water and snack, and begins to step away from the counter. 

“Enjoy your movie.” Bucky offers, more enthusiastic than usual.

The blond seems taken aback, but answers kindly, “Oh. Thanks. You too.” 

The second the words are from his mouth, the customer blushes bright red and cringes. 

“Er. Sorry.” The customer is adorably flustered, and Bucky can’t help but giggle a little as he stammers, “You have a nice evening. Not a good movie. I’m seeing the movie.” The blond flashes Bucky one last embarrassed smile, before ducking around the corner towards the auditoriums. 

Bucky can’t stop smiling as he pulls his textbook from its hiding place in the cupboard and continues his reading. 

45 minutes later, and the shows have started, meaning that Natasha and Bucky stand in the concessions stand, sipping on free soda and chatting.

Shouting voices from down the hall pull Bucky and Nat’s focus from each other. 

The blond customer saunters into the lobby. His forehead is creased in frustration, and, even at a distance, Bucky can tell that he has his jaw clenched in apparent anger. 

Another man, who is probably the blond’s age but a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier, follows him, shouting insults. Finally the Skinny High School Kid Who is Working Usher stumbles behind them, meekly sputtering out something about ‘taking it outside’.

“I’m not done with you yet!” The taller man shouts in the blond’s face. 

“Wanna take this outside, asshole!” The blond shouts back with just as much fire.

The taller man grabs the blond by the jacket and practically throws the two of them out of the front doors. 

“Oh thank god.” The Skinny High School Kid Who is Working Usher mutters to himself. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and utters a “Damn it.” before rushing out from the concession stand and following the two men outside. 

As he steps out onto the pavement, Bucky’s muscles contract instinctively in the cold. He hearts a low thud and a groan from his right. When he turns the corner, the taller guy punches the blond so hard it throws the smaller man over. 

The blond is on his feet almost instantly and manages to land a punch on the taller guy’s jaw, causing his head to snap to the side. 

“Hey!” Bucky shouts, getting the men’s attention. He struts to the larger guy. “Pick on someone your own size.” Bucky grabs the taller man’s arm and pulls him away from the blond. The taller man swings a punch at Bucky, but misses. Bucky socks him in the jaw, hoping that will be the end of it. The man swings again, but Bucky steps out of the way. As the man stumbles forward, Bucky kicks him on the ass for good measure. 

That’s the end of it. The taller man pinches the bridge of his nose as he stumbles away across the parking lot. 

Bucky extends his hand to the blond, “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

The blond grabs his hand in a firm handshake, “Steve Rogers.”

After their hands separate, Bucky is acutely aware of just how cold it is.

Steve speaks up first. “Thanks by the way.”

“Yeah. No problem. Just try not to get into any more fights while I’m here. I’m a popcorn pusher not security.”

Steve giggles at that. It’s a genuine laugh that makes Bucky’s insides curl with warmth. The silence between them is almost awkward for a split second.

“I’m just gonna go.” Steve looks out into the parking lot. 

“Yeah. I’ve got to go earn my nine dollars an hour.” Bucky quips. 

With one last glance, the men go their separate ways. 

For the remainder of his shift, Bucky can’t stop thinking about the small stranger who apparently picks fights in movie theaters. Natasha certainly contributes to Bucky’s continued thoughts of Steve. 

“He was cute.” Natasha quips after Bucky tells her about the fight.

“Yeah.” He replies. The daydreamy look in his eyes tells Natasha all she needs to know. 

After last showtimes, Bucky starts wiping down the counters. Natasha has already finished helping him with inventory and leans against the counter, sipping a red icee. Natasha is doing her best to pester her friend. 

“His name is Steve. Stteeeeevveeeee.” She draws the word out, as if testing its sound. Bucky knows she’s testing him. He keeps his head down, focusing on his work.

“Does he like guys? I don’t want to stereotype but...” She shrugs her shoulders, icee straw in her hand. 

Bucky glances up at her, playfully annoyed. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing. It’s just...he’s cute.” Her red-stained lips curl into a devilish grin.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t cute.” Bucky replies, getting flustered.

Natasha swirls her straw around in her drink as she continues, “Look him up on facebook.”

“I’m not going to facebook stalk some guy I don’t know!” Bucky practically shouts back, his voice scandalized. 

Bucky does look him up on facebook. Once he’s home from work, he flops onto his head and starts typing away at his phone, curious about Steve. 

He searches instagram too. That gives him a result. Steve Rogers is an artist of some kind who hardly uses his instagram account. It’s definitely him though. Although Steve hasn’t uploaded a single selfie, some guy named Sam has tagged him in a bunch of photos. Bucky is interested in a particular photo of Steve at an event with the blue, purple, and pink bisexual pride flag thrown over his shoulders. _Dammit Natasha,_ he thinks. Although he hates that she was right, he can’t help but feel a pang of relief in his chest. 

Bucky scrolls through, smiling back at the drawings and art pieces. He decides not to follow or dm Steve. It’d be too creepy to follow some stranger that he barely knows. 

It’d also give away the fact that Bucky totally facebook-stalked this guy. 

Bucky peels off his permanently popcorn-scented work clothes before strutting to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth he looks up at himself in the mirror. He knows he’s handsome. People have been telling him his whole life that he’s handsome. Yet, he pulls down at the dark circles under his eyes and runs his tongue over his slightly-crooked front tooth. 

Bucky gives up on nit-picking the details of his face and trods to his bed. He throws himself on the rickety mattress and plugs his phone it. 

Two hours later, and Bucky Barnes cannot fall asleep.

He stares up at the ceiling in the dark. No matter how he lays, how much he tries to calm his breathing, nor how many sheep he counts, he cannot fall asleep.

Frustrated, he checks the time on his phone. The light from his home screen temporarily blinds him. 

3AM

Bucky blinks into the dark, the light from his phone leaving a green square in his vision. He sighs and runs his hand over his face. With that, he realizes just how greasy he is from work. Bucky also becomes painfully aware of just how much he stinks of popcorn and countertop cleaner. 

With a groan, Bucky pushes himself out of his bed. He walks across his small apartment, careful not to make to much noise. The last thing he needs right now is the downstairs neighbors sikking the Sup on him. 

He turns on the shower and gives it a few good moments to heat up. After he's naked and in the shower, he stands there under the water. He lets it pour over his face and warm his skin. 

Without conscious effort, his mind starts thinking of warm lips against his and the sensation of blunt nails scratching over his chest and thighs. He doesn't even try to push those thoughts away. Alone and tired, he closes his eyes and hips his head back under the spray of the water. His right hand starts at the base of his throat, his left flat against his belly. He slides it down his chest, pausing a moment to rub over first his right nipple, then his left. 

Realizing it's so late at night that it's early the next morning, he decides to rush things along. He grabs his now-hard cock in his right hand, hissing quietly at the relief of the friction. Bucky moves clumsily to lean his back against the comparatively cold wall of the shower. He frantically continues to jerk himself off as his left hand scratches over his belly towards his chest. As he begins rubbing and gently twisting his sensitive nipples. Eyes closed, he pictures soft pink lips wrapped around his hard cock. He can practically feel thin but strong fingers gripping the muscles in his thighs hard enough to almost hurt, blue eyes glance upward and look into his own. Before he can feel too guilty about his fantasies, Bucky is coming with an low, throaty moan. Cum shoots in spurts onto his hand and into the shower. 

He takes in a few deep, slow breaths, trying not to think about how probably creepy it is to jerk off while picturing a guy he just met. Gradually, the energy under his skin gives way to sleepiness. He takes no time in lathering soap over his body and rinsing off. 

Once he's dried off and in bed, Bucky slides gracefully into sleep in minutes. 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve keeps on coming back to the movies.  
> Bucky starts to suspect it's just to torture him. 
> 
> Featuring: Flirt Masters Sam and Nat. Steve's astigmatism. Secret dork Bucky Barnes, and best bros Nat and Buck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is 100% totally a trans man.

Bucky is starting to hate whoever decided that discount movies on Tuesdays should be a thing.  
One thing Bucky has going for him is his ability to remain cool under pressure. He divvies out orders with maximum efficiency, running on super-customer-friendly auto pilot. 

Natasha is concession tonight. She walks between stations, helping out the overwhelmed connectionists. Popcorn dust sticks to her shirt, and a film of sweat is forming on her forehead. Bucky suspects he looks just as disheveled. It’s hot and rushed behind the concession stand. And not in the ‘sexy times way’. In the ‘minimum wage’ way. 

But it’s busy, and Bucky is too preoccupied with taking orders to worry about his appearance. He rushes from register, to popcorn, to candy, and back again. He counts back change flawlessly. He doesn't have time for small talk as he rushes through hundreds of orders.

That is until one Steve Rogers and his friend step up to the counter. At the sight of Steve, Bucky's rhythm hitches. There's another man with Steve. Bucky recognizes the handsome, smiling friend as Sam from his social media snooping. Of course he can’t let them know that he snooped on Steve, so he smiles between the men casually. 

Steve is wearing a thick, plastic rimmed pair of glasses that magnify his blue eyes. He’s wrapped in layers of winter clothing again, and Bucky suspects the blush rising to his cheeks isn’t just from the cold. As Steve pushes his glasses up with a single finger, Bucky fights the urge to whine.

It’s only then, with a pair of dazzlingly blue eyes and a pair of deep beautiful brown eyes staring at him does he feel the front of his hair flop down onto his forehead with sweat. 

After a moment of stiff silence, Sam clears his throat. 

“Er. Um.” Steve stammers and rubs a nervous hand on the back of his neck. 

Bucky puts on his Charming Customer Service Smile and offers, “What can I get for you?”

Sam’s eyebrows raise as he glances from Bucky down to Steve. Steve’s cheeks and neck are pink with blush. 

“I’ll have a water and some twizzlers. And whatever he’s having.” Steve nods to Sam. 

“I’ll have a cherry icee,” Sam answers simply. 

Bucky sends Nat to make the icee. Bucky will avoid making icees at all costs, because he always winds up overfilling them. At least, that’s the excuse he’ll use if Natasha questions him not wanting to leave his register. 

Nope, it’s not because of the beautiful boy who keeps coming to movies when Bucky is working. It's not because Bucky imagines holding the man's cold hands. Or the way Bucky's stomach flips whenever he speaks or pushes up his glasses or blushes.

"How much is it?" Steve asks politely.

Bucky panics, not knowing how long he was sitting there deep in thoughts about Steve. Steve, the boy he's meant _once_ and should really chill out about.

“That’s 12.25″ Bucky tells Steve.

Just as Bucky pulls out his wallet, Natasha plops the icee and water bottle down on the counter. Her eyes focus on Sam’s. 

“Hey,” she greets the stranger. Her voice is oozing flirtation.

“Hey,” Sam offers back. Natasha’s thick lips flicker into a small smirk. Sam returns the smile.

Steve and Bucky pause mid-transaction to watch the scene before them. Steve’s hand holds cash into the air in front of Bucky. Bucky’s hand is outstretched, paused inches from the money. They glance between their respective friend, then back at each other. Childish, ridiculous grins spread across both their faces. Finally, Steve's finishes handing Bucky the cash. Bucky's fingers accidentally touch Steve's. They are cold. Bucky's stomach does a flip and he subconsciously flicks his tongue out to lick his lips.

"What are you seeing tonight?" Bucky asks. Trying to break silence as he hands Steve his change. At his side, Sam and Natasha continue their conversation. If their obvious flirting can even be called such.

"Some horror thing Sam wanted to see." Steve grimaces as he grabs his snacks from the counter. As he shoves the candy in his coat pocket, he looks away from Bucky. 

"Not into horror movies, huh?" Bucky offers, not wanting Steve to leave so soon.

"Yeah. Not really my thing." Steve's eyes glance back up into Bucky's and he smiles. Bucky doesn't ever remember feeling so alive.

Steve nudges Sam in the side to get his attention. Sam playfully punches Steve's arm before grabbing his icee. Too soon, the pair are pushing through the crowd away from Bucky and Natasha. 

"See ya around!" Steve shouts back to the counter. 

"Yeah." Bucky responds. His lips are pulled back in a doofy smile as he offers Steve a parting wave. He wasn't sure if it was possible to miss a technically-stranger, but he did.

The night goes on. Bucky's usual focus falters as he lingers on the pretty boy with the big plastic glasses. The hours fly by as hundreds of customers dwindles down to a couple stragglers in the lobby. 

As the last shows shut their doors, the concessionists scurry to finish up so they can go home. Still, Natasha finds time to corner Bucky. He's sweeping up popcorn crumbs and wrappers behind the concession stand. Natasha has just finished up countertops. She turns to lean her back against the counter, facing Bucky as he tries to work. 

"Did you get his number?" She's radiating energy. Nat loves interrogating and teasing people, especially Bucky.

"No. He probably doesn't even like me, I'm just some popcorn-pusher."

The way Bucky refuses to look Nat in the eye and the way he bites his lower lip don't escape Natasha. She has a million more questions for the boy, but Bucky speaks up before she gets her chance. 

"What about his friend? You get his number?" He asks, feigning ignorance about the man's name.

"As a matter of fact, I did," she answers smugly.

Bucky is positively aghast. He throws his head up to meet Natasha's smug gaze. "What?!"

Natasha reaches into her pants pocket and pulls out a napkin with ink scribbles on it. She waves it in victory as Bucky stammers.

"I'm not too dense to realize when somebody is obviously into me. I'm also not too dense to act on said interest." She gloats. She stuffs the napkin back in her pocket and continues smiling wickedly at Bucky.

He furrows his brow. He won't even try to hide his jealousy. Natasha would see through him in an instant. So, he focuses on his sweeping. The rational part of him decides that he'll try to get Steve's number. The other, irrational part starts to convince him that Steve will never come to another movie again. 

"If you want I can ask Sam for Steve's number. I'll just say I'm asking for the devastatingly handsome and totally-obsessed-with-Steve concessionist." She's half-joking, half-legitimate. 

Bucky smiles and teases back, "Natasha, I am trying to do my job. I will not have your childish banter."

Nat throws a straw wrapper at Bucky's head, hitting him between the eyes. Bucky gets his revenge by flicking a bit of popcorn into her hair.

Natasha feigns shock and anger, placing a hand on her chest and declaring, "James Buchanan Barnes I expect better from you!"

Nat and Bucky fall into a fit of giggling.

That night, Bucky sits on the bed in his shitty little apartment. His hair is still wet from his post-work shower, and he's clad only in ratty old joggers. The springs in his bed squeak even though he's trying hard not too move too much. At this hour the world is quiet. Sometimes that's ok, but mostly Bucky hates when the world is too quiet. It feels lonely. Artificial yellow lighting shines in through the window, causing the features of his room to be illuminated in a dull amber glow.

Bucky scrolls mindlessly through instagram. He stops to like one of Dum Dum's bar selfies. Eventually, he scrolls back up to the top. A familiar icon and more familiar name is on his 'suggested to follow'. It's Sam's account. Natasha had apparently followed Sam. _She's got guts_ Bucky thinks. A couple of taps later, and Bucky is on Steve's page. Steve's latest post is a photo of pencilled typography of 'Protect Trans Kids' with an eloquent comment about the danger of so-called bathroom bills. Bucky finds himself smiling at his phone as he reads Steve's words. 

Maybe it's the late hour. Maybe it's Bucky's exhausted and compromised mental state. Whatever it is, Bucky shrugs and clicks 'follow'. 

Bucky plugs in his phone, shuts off his light, and lays down to sleep.

Bucky wakes up to his phone vibrating. Being the first thing he's heard that morning, the phone vibrating seems like the loudest, most annoying thing he's ever heard. He squints, bleary eyed at his phone screen.

It's a text from Natasha. She's texted him a photo of Spongebob Squarepants making a stupid face followed by a message with _you like steve rogers don't you Bucky'._

Bucky groans out loud. He sits up, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

**Its 8 in the goddamn morning** , he replies. 

_It's gym time motherfucker. now get over here and pick me up_

Bucky thinks that Natasha personally consulted satan when planning her leg day circuit. Once through and his legs are shaking and his shirt is soaked with sweat.

Bucky settles into the leg press. His back is on a seat to the floor. His legs support the platform above him. Bars on either side of the platform hold weights. The heavy metal machine supports the platform to keep it from crushing him. The muscles in his thighs are prominent, bulging as he pushes up against the weight. Natasha stands at his side, apparently reading a poster on the wall.

Finally she glances down at him, "So apparently your boy and Sam are roommates." Natasha comments casually.

Bucky tries to hide his interest, focussing on his workout. Nothing escapes Natasha.

Her lips pull back in a dorky smile as she continues, "and he goes to the same college as us."

Bucky sighs as he steps out of the press machine and starts lifting the plates off of it. 

Only after Natasha is settling in for the lift that Bucky finally replies, "He's totally an art major."

"Yup." She says, nonchalant. Between reps on she continues, "Cute, single, and ready to mingle according to Sam." 

"You didn't ask for his number did you?" Bucky asks, wiping sweat from his brow. 

"I didn't ask for his number. I like to torture you."

Natasha finishes her set. Because of her (lack of) height, she has to use her tippy toes to get the platform back in place. Bucky offers his hand to help her up. 

"Obviously you like torture." Bucky teases, gesturing at the press machine. Natasha playfully swats him with her sweat towel.

"Selfie time," she practically sings as she points to Bucky's cellphone.

Bucky tries to protest, "I am so sweaty and gross."

"Yeah but you're swole post workout, let's go."

Bucky sighs but smiles as he hands over his phone. Natasha practically skips to the ceiling to floor mirrors. 

Nat stands, body straight, one arm holding the camera, the other up to flex her bicep. Bucky lazily throws one arm over her shoulder and holds the other one off to flex as well. Both are smiling, lips closed and eyes squinting slightly.

After Natasha is done Bucky takes back his phone. The photo is cute, he thinks. He posts it on his instagram, careful to use a filter that will remove the flush from their skin.

Not a minute later and Bucky's phone goes off in his pocket. Steve just liked the gym selfie. Bucky smiles down at his phone before pocketing it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure nobody else cares but:
> 
> I'm being intentionally vague about movies. I'm not going to title drop.
> 
> check out my tumblr:  
> [pocketbucky](http://pocketbucky.tumblr.com/)
> 
> if you like platonic nat and bucky as much as i do, check out my  
> [bork and nut tag!](http://pocketbucky.tumblr.com/tagged/bork%20and%20nut)


	3. Coffee to Warm A Cold Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve have coffee. 
> 
> Featuring: Bucky's no good very bad morning, Steve roger's kickass fashion sense, and Nut and Bork exchanging text messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes: World class flirt who is also massively insecure.

Bucky winds up working doubles all weekend. Natasha has been sick with the flu, so he covers her shifts and his own. 

When Natasha texts him on Friday night to work, he thinks nothing of it. Work doesn’t drain him too much, and he could use some extra money.

By his second and last shift on Sunday night, however, Bucky is regretting this act of kindness. His feet hurt, he can’t focus, and he keeps fumbling his words when he tries to talk to customers. He hates feeling groggy and out of it, so his exhaustion quickly gives way to frustration.

By the time he returns to his apartment that night, Bucky is entirely wiped. He barely stays awake long enough for a quick shower, and doesn’t even bother with drying off before pulling on some boxers and falling into bed.

Monday morning starts with Bucky almost smashing his alarm clock out of spite. He's never actually woken up in a dumpster, but he imagines this is about what that feels like.

He feels like a sack of shit. He’s tired, cold, and his feet ache. He has morning breath, and he can feel a bit of acne starting to break out on his forehead. Bucky usually prides himself on his appearance, so the grogginess and apathy that comes with this morning are unusual for him.

He throws on a pair of cleanish joggers and his scuffed up docs. Gross. He throws on a threadbare t shirt that reads ‘Goonies Never Say Die’ and his black leather jacket. It's still super cold out so he throws on some ratty gloves and a fluffy gray scarf Natasha had given him for his last birthday. He doesn’t even bother to comb down his mess of short hair. 

Gross, but Bucky can’t be bothered right now. 

He only has a couple of morning classes anyway. In college, most nobody will notice nor care if you look like hell.

Even after downing a vending machine red-bull, Bucky barely stays awake for his two morning lectures. He holds his heavy eyelids open and tries to focus on what the professors say, but he finds himself spacing off. 

Bucky just wants to slide into bed and sleep for the rest of the day, but he’s an overachiever and won’t forgive himself if he doesn’t get his work done for his history class tomorrow. 

Tired and really gross looking, Bucky shuffles into a coffeeshop just off of campus. He orders a tall black coffee and downs it before he’s settled into his favorite table. It’s a relatively secluded four-top table nestled in a back corner of the shop. He feels like the corner is private, but not isolated. 

The caffeine does nothing about the exhaustion that clogs Bucky’s mind. Instead, it creates an uncomfortable restlessness just under his skin and in his fingers. After only a few minutes of scanning his textbook and filling in a worksheet, and Bucky finds himself reading over the same sentence over and over. He can’t focus. He flexes his hand a couple of times, trying to work out the jitters. 

But it doesn’t work, and Bucky’s had enough. There’s no dignity in desperation. 

Bucky snaps his laptop shut and slides down in the chair, resting his boot-clad feet under the table on one of the chairs across from him. He crosses his arms across his chest and his head leans forward towards his chest. 

He dozes off almost instantly. 

Shuffling at his table and the smell of hot coffee stirs Bucky out of his light sleep. 

Steve stands above him, clad in his ridiculous winter gear, and with two coffees in hand. Bucky slides back up, so he’s no longer sitting across two chairs. 

“Mind if I join you?” Steve asks, a small, nervous smile playing on his lips. 

“Only if the coffee is for me,” Bucky answers, trying to be flirty. Unfortunately it falls flat as his voice is gruff from sleep. He thinks he must sound grouchy or uninterested. Luckily, Steve must not notice, he smiles and sets down the coffees. Before sitting down, Steve takes off his massive coat and hands it over the back of his chair. Even the small not-sexy gesture of taking off a winter coat makes Bucky’s chest and stomach flutter in the most delightful way. 

Something about _Steve_ makes Bucky’s chest and stomach flutter in the most delightful way. 

It seems childish to Bucky, that he has such a crush on this man. However, the emotional warmth that Steve seems to radiate quickly pushes any insecurities from Bucky's mind.

That is, until, Bucky remembers that he is the personification of a dumpster-fire right now. The realization that he is sitting across from a gorgeous man while looking like a grade-A slob sends sparks of embarrassment through his body. He must visibly react to this realization, because Steve gently asks if he’s alright.

Bucky puts on a smile before answering “Yeah. I’m fine. Great.” 

And either he’s dreaming, or Steve is smiling behind the coffee-cup that he lifts to his lips. 

Bucky scans Steve. Under that massive coat Steve is wearing a lighter jacket over a t-shirt. The jacket is probably some sort of army surplus. Steve has sewn patches and put pins through the olive-green fabric. One reads 'down with the cis-tem'. One of the pins on the chest pocket is a circle with colored rings organized like a bullseye. The outside ring is baby-blue, the middle ring white, and the innermost circle is a soft pink. Text over the bullseye reads 'he/him'. 

"Sweet pins." Bucky says, gesturing with his coffee to Steve's olive-clad chest.

"Oh. Thanks," Steve replies, looking down at his own jacket as if trying to remember what exactly the pins all say.

Bucky and Steve smile knowingly at each other over their coffees. Someday they're probably going to have to talk about it, but that day isn't today.

They talk awhile longer. Most of the conversation centers around boring stuff like class and work. As Bucky wakes up, he becomes more flirty, throwing in casual winks and well-practiced smirks that he knows make him look pretty and cool. Bucky also finds himself smiling more while talking to Steve than he has in a long time. Soon, their drinks are gone. Steve gets them refills of black coffee from the counter, throws some change in the tip jar, and they continue talking.

Bucky learns that Steve is an only child raised by a single mother. His mother, Sara, passed away recently. Bucky offers his condolences, but Steve assures him that he's fine and she was sick for a long time, which doesn't make things easier...just...different. Bucky learns that Steve is an art major and prefers Depeche Mode to Echo and the Bunnymen...the small blond is apparently very into cheesy 80s music, which Bucky finds surprisingly adorable. 

"I figured you were more of a super-indie bands playing acoustic sets in small cafés type." Bucky admits. 

"So a total hipster?" Steve challenges, smiling.

"Um, yeah," Bucky admits, "I think it's the whole-" he holds out his hands, indicating Steve's entire body.

Steve chuckles before answering, "I only wear the glasses because I legitimately need them to see." Steve takes a sip of his coffee before continuing, jokingly "How does one identify a hipster? What do hipsters even do anyway? Do they have fun? Are they allowed to have fun?"

"I'm pretty sure hipsters are art majors who drink coffee in little campus cafés," Bucky smiles devilishly, teasingly, around his answer.

Steve responds, "Damn" with faux-disappointment. They both erupt in a fit of giggles.

"Well if I'm a hipster, what does that make you?" Steve asks. Bucky loves the playful challenge in his voice.

"I'm just a guy who throws popcorn and strangers then complains when they spill it. I don't think there's a word for that?"

"There isn't a word for that. You got me.," Steve says.

They continue to chat for a couple of hours. Bucky tells Steve about his single mother who raised him and his younger sister after his dad died. He tells Steve about Natasha's reckless driving and endless support as a friend. He finds himself comfortable enough with Steve to tell him real things, personal things. He doesn't find himself self-conscious or embarrassed, and Steve seems to legitimately care about Bucky's thoughts and stories. 

Steve apparently has some art pieces going into an upcoming show on campus. Bucky says he'll check it out. Steve's entire neck and face blush when Bucky says that. Bucky, of course, can't help but imagine that blush extends all the way down Steve's chest. He so desperately wants to find out, but doesn't want to push his luck and push Steve away. 

Bucky would be content never seeing Steve naked if he got to talk to him like this, honest and comfortable, free from the pressures of trying to impress. He only hopes that Steve is as comfortable and happy as he is. However, judging by the pure and honest way Steve has been talking and laughing these past couple of hours, the feelings are mutual.

Steve checks the time on his phone, and his shoulders slump. His lips pull up in a small smile that Bucky has learned is more from disappointment or sadness than actual happiness.

"What's up?" Bucky asks casually.

"Sam wants me to go with him to his uh- to this thing." Steve answers.

Steve's sadness-smile shifts to a genuine one as Steve asks, "Want to do this again sometime?"

"Definitely," Bucky replies, sounding embarrassingly eager. He covers it up by immediately shifting into Maximum Flirt Mode, "You got a phone number, sweetheart?"

Steve's lips pull into a sultry grin. Bucky realizes that Steve knows exactly what he does to him. Steve can see right through his well practiced flirtations. 

It's kind of really hot.

Steve scribbles his phone number on a napkin and slides it in front of Bucky. Bucky immediately texts him, and they add each other to their contacts. So what if Bucky puts a little fight-me emoticon next to Steve's name? Nobody has to know, and Steve is more 'fight me' than anybody Bucky has ever met.

Steve wraps himself back in his winter garb and waves goodbye as he exits the small café. Bucky finally gets back to his homework, feeling more energized and motivated than he has in days. 

To be honest, he feels downright giddy.

It's not too much later, and Bucky’s phone vibrates noisily against the tabletop. He flips it over and swipes over the cracked screen. It’s a text from Steve. 

_You’re cute when you look somewhat homeless_ the text says. It’s followed by a separate message of a winking emoji. 

Bucky feels like his heart is growing three sizes.

He immediately texts Natasha.

_Guess who I just had coffee with???_

She replies almost immediately, _Small blond and handsome?_

_How did you? Nvm. Guess whose phone number I got? ___

_Good work, handsome. You going to ask him on a real date or just keep stalking his instagram posts?_

Damn Natasha for seeing right through him.

_I think today could technically count as a date_

Bucky's phone indicates that Natasha types for awhile before finally replying, _I mean a proper 'Pick him up, take him somewhere public and do cute stuff' kind of date. Like a date date. Dinner and a movie goodnight-kiss kind of date_

_I'm not going to take Steve to a movie it'd be weird._

_Why would it be weird ?_ Natasha probes.

_Because I can't leave a theatre without picking up everybody's trash and because I can no longer tolerate the taste of popcorn....what if he wants popcorn?_

_OK, take him to a nice restaurant. It's a great opportunity for you to find out if he's weird and you can wear that grey shirt that makes you look HOT_

That text is quickly followed by a second message, _I mean that in a strictly platonic kind of way_

Bucky realizes that taking Steve out on a proper date seems like a pretty amazing idea. He wants to spend more time with him. He can't imagine a better combination than Steven Rogers and a ton of food: two of his most favorite things. 

However, any opportunity to pick on Natasha cannot be wasted, _As if you're into me. I see the way you look when you're texting Sam_

 _Shut up, you discount gigolo_ she replies with a rolling eyes emoji.

_Why don't you just ask him out while you're trying to play matchmaker?_

_Because I haven't been on a proper date in years_

After that message, Natasha continues typing, but it's a few seconds before Bucky finally receives the next text.

_I'll ask Sam out if you ask Steve out. and it has to be a proper date, nice clothes, restaurant, the potential for gentle love-making afterward. The whole deal._

Bucky can't help but roll his eyes, but he replies, _You're on, Romanov!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also huge shoutout to Nate (@transteveroger) for the jacket idea. And to the Trans Marvel Net for helping me have the motivation to finish this chapter. Y'all rock.
> 
> Someday I'll write a fic that doesn't have a coffeeshop scene in it...someday....

**Author's Note:**

> I work at a movie theater and  
> -we do guess what you're seeing before you ask for it. And we get really good at it to  
> -our uniforms permanently smell like popcorn  
> -it can be so fucking boring sometimes. So fucking boring that I wrote most of this while at work.  
> -I've been at work when fights break out. They are never this interesting, fun, nor romantic. They suck...please don't get in a fight while at a movie theater. We don't get paid enough to deal with that, my dudes.
> 
> Also,  
> what movie do you think Steve went to (alone, I might add)?


End file.
